


Death Takes a Holiday

by HYPERFocused



Series: Velvet Death [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Sentinel Thursday Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-05
Updated: 2004-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, and Death</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Takes a Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timian/gifts).



> A/N Sequel to Velvet Underground. Written for Timian's holiday poll request of Bach, sailboats, and fishing rods. Warning, bring tissues. (if you've read Velvet Underground, you'd know that. If you haven't, you probably should, so this makes sense.

At first, Jim thought he was taking part in a particularly intense experiment, though perhaps intense was exactly the wrong word to describe this non experience. There was only an awareness of sorts, a rightness. If Jim had been forced to put a name to it, he would have called it contentment. The sort he hadn't felt in years. 

. He was feeling nothing with his senses. It was as if he had dialed his whole self down to zero, and yet he wasn't alone in his body. He could feel a presence..He would have cried, if he still could, to find this other half of his soul, the part he'd thought lost to him all the years he'd been alone.

But there was Blair's low, soothing voice unraveling the layers of blankness surrounding him like hospital gauze. Even so, Jim was puzzled. He expected to feel Blair's sure, strong hands bringing him back into the nerves and sinews of his own body. Jim thought if he concentrated, he could open his eyes, and the bright blue eyes of the man he had loved for a lifetime would be beaming back at him. But no, his beloved was guiding him another way. It was a journey Jim was all to ready to take, though he would admit to a little nervousness.

He tried to tell Blair he was on his way, to please wait for him, but his voice cut out when he tried to speak. Instead, there were hands grabbing him. Hands that hurt, though he knew they meant to be soothing. Outside voices grew loud, then faded when he began to get interested. He had no control over any of it. Snippets of conversation drifted in and out of his awareness, and Jim knew he should be paying attention to them, but he just couldn't bring himself to focus.

"No response to stimuli" 

"Prognosis poor."

"Does he have a DNR?"

"Blair would have died to see him like this..."

"Such a shame that it happened on Christmas."

"It hasn't been the same for him since Blair died."

"I think Jim's been waiting to join him, but I'm not ready to let him go. He's been like a second father to me."

"A stroke this severe, I'm afraid there's really nothing we can do. If there was any real improvement expected, it would have happened by now."

But soon those voices, dear as most of them were to him, faded into the background like the beeps and clicks of the machinery being used to keep him tethered to his body. That other voice, the only one that mattered, was back. 'It's okay, Jim. Let them try. They'll feel more comfortable for having done so. We know where this road is leading. There's all the time in the world. In this world.'

There was music calling him. Faint, and as far away as he'd ever been able to hear. It was oddly familiar, yet he knew he'd never heard it before. Strains of electric guitar, thrumming with power, but the notes themselves had a classical feel. Blair would have known what they were. 'Bach', the still, small voice in his head told him. 'It's new. He and Carlos have regular jam sessions. Sometimes Elton joins in. One of the perks, man. You'll see.' 

'I want to be there now, Chief. I've waited so long,' Jim thought.

'You will, love. Soon. But for now, I want you to sleep, and remember. Your memories will help guide you to me. Don't hurry, I'll be right here waiting for you.'

Jim dreamt, and remembered: He was watching a younger image of himself like a particularly vivid holovision program. He could never forget this day. It was Blair's first as a full fledged cop. Jim was opening the door to the loft, exhausted after a lengthy stake out and chase. His arm was around Blair's shoulder, supporting him. Blair's right ankle was wrapped in an ace bandage, and Jim could feel heat from the sprain emanating off his partner in waves, along with the residual horror of the case. Their quick action had barely been enough to save the life of a young girl. Her innocence had not been spared.

He gingerly helped Blair hobble to the sofa, settling him down, then he put the pot on for Blair's favorite green tea, handing him a steaming mug along with his prescribed painkillers. When Blair beckoned him closer, Jim curled up next to him, pulling him into his arms.

"Make me forget, Jim. I want the pictures in my head to go away. I don't want to feel anything but you." Blair lay back on the cushions, and pulled Jim down to him. The kiss started out sweet, and a little bit shy, but soon turned intense. Their bodies reflected the passion they felt for one another, the connection that grew stronger, and more desperate after such a close call.

Needing to feel Blair's skin next to his, Jim peeled off his shirt, then began unbutton Blair's, following the path his fingers made with his lips. The small glow of Blair's nipple ring sent up a flare to Jim's senses, He leaned down to taste it, and the surrounding flesh that crinkled up to meet his tongue. Then he moved lower.

"Lift your hips, Chief, so I can get a better angle." Jim motioned Blair, wanting to get his pants down. Blair often wondered how Jim could like doing this so much, when his Sentinel nature was so sensitive to unpleasant tastes and textures. Jim tried to tell him that it was anything but an unpleasant experience. The taste and feel of Blair's cock, warm and alive in Jim's mouth was one of the best things about being a Sentinel. It made up for barking dogs, and overloaded garbage trucks, laundry soap that scraped his skin like sandpaper, and the glare from highway signs that hurt his eyes. It was wonderful.

He was surprised, to say the least, when Blair shook his head, and said "Not this time, Jim."

"What do you mean? Are you all right?" Jim couldn't help his disappointment, or his worry.

"I need you to make love to me."

"I thought that's what I was doing," Jim said, puzzled.

"No, Jim. I mean I want you to fuck me."

Jim's erection, which had been growing eagerly since they'd started kissing, became quite insistent. Still, Jim had to ask. "Are you sure, Blair? We've never --. It'll hurt."

"Not so much, Jim. Not if we take it slowly. I'll show you what to do."

Jim blushed. "It's been a very long time, but I have actually done this before. Just not with someone I loved."

Blair's eyes grew suspiciously bright at that. He kissed Jim again, and said, "I love you, too. I can't begin to tell you how much, but I really want to show you."

"I don't think this sofa is the best place for that."

"Well, I'd always pictured us in your bed. But with my ankle, it'd probably be better if we went to mine. Besides, I've got, um, preparations by my bedside."

Jim laughed. "Pretty sure of yourself there, Chief."

"I knew it would happen sooner or later. I was just hoping for sooner. You know you can't resist me." Blair grinned up at his partner.

"That's for damn sure," Jim agreed.

It had all gone a lot more smoothly than Jim had expected. He'd dialed down his senses just a little, at first, to regain enough control to do everything he wanted. Blair kissed him while Jim stroked inside him, fin stretching him as gently, but thoroughly as they could. Blair was so incredibly warm on his hand; Jim couldn't imagine how he would feel on his cock.

When it finally happened, it took all of Jim's concentration not to come right away, or worse yet, zone out on the overload of sensations. Blair's scent, combined with all the different ways he was touching Jim, and the incredible sounds. Gasps and whimpers of pleasure, mixed with a little pain. Even the flow of blood through Blair's body was like music.. Jim could hear it all.

All these decades later, and Jim awoke from his dream. He remembered that first time like it was only hours ago. Memories that should have worn smooth like the sand washed glass that washed up onto the beach by their favorite fishing hole, were sharp  
again. It was as if he was given a chance to experience it all anew.

He let go of the pain that years and illness and loneliness had caused. Said goodbye to the people he loved in this world, though they probably couldn't tell.

At the end of his life, he saw Blair. He was sprawled out on the sailboat they had bought a few years into their relationship, but hadn't used nearly enough.. He'd just cast his line into the water, and was waiting patiently for Jim to join him.

Jim found himself crossing the water towards him. He couldn't quite tell if he swam the distance, or walked. He only knew he could hear Blair calling him, telling him "Come on in, Jim. The water's just fine."


End file.
